My name is Had. You may know me, but you may not know my knew name. You may have no idea what I have been through because I do look my best to look the same. I am scared to death of you. I used to be just like you. I once held my head up high without propping in on my hymnal.
I was well respected back then, and I even respected myself. I was wholeheartedly devoted to God, and if the truth be known, somewhere deep inside I was sometimes the slightest bit proud of my devotion. Then I'd repent...because I knew pride was wrong. I didn't want to be wrong. Not ever.
People looked up to me. And life looked good from up there. I felt good about who I was. That was before I was Had. Strangely, I no longer remember my old name. I just remember I liked it. I liked who I was. I wish I could go back. I wish I'd just wake up. But I fear I am wide awake. I have had a nightmare. And the nightmare was me. Had.
If I could really talk to you and you could really listen, I'd tell you I had no idea how this all happened. Honestly, I was just like you. I didn't plan to be Had. One day I hadn't, then the next day I had.
Oh, I know now where I went wrong. I have rewound the nightmare a thousand times, stopping it right at the point where I departed the trail of good sense. The way ahead didn't look wrong. It just looked different. Strange, he didn't look like the devil in the original scene. But every time I replayed it, he dropped another piece of his masquerade. When he finally took off his mask, he was laughing at me. Nothing seems funny anymore. I will never laugh again as long as he is laughing.
If only I could go back. I would see it this time! I would walk around the trap camouflaged by the brush, and I would not be Had. I would be Proud. Was that my old name? Proud? I can't even remember who I was anymore. I though I was Good. Not Proud. But I don't know anymore
Would you believe I never heard the trap shut? Too many voices were shouting in my head. I just knew I got stuck somewhere unfamiliar. And soon I didn't like the scenery anymore. I wanted to go home. my ankle didn't even hurt anymore. Not until the infection set in. Then I thought I would die.
I lay like a whimpering doe while the wolf howled in the darkness. I got scared. I pulled the brush over me and hid. Then I felt like I couldn't breathe. I had to get out of there or I was sure it would kill me. I didn't belong there. I refused to die there.
I pulled and pulled at the trap, but the foothold wouldn't budge. The blood gushed. I had no way out. I screamed for God. I told him where I was and the shape I was in. He came for me.
The infection is gone. He put something on it and cleaned it up instantly. As He inspected my shattered ankle, I kept waiting for Him to say, "You deserved this, you know. You've been Had." Because I did and I know and I have. He hasn't said it yet. I've never known Him from this side. My leg still hurts. God says it will heal with time. But I fear I will always walk with a limp.
You see, I wrestled with the devil and he gave me a new name. Had.
Poem by: Beth Moore
I was well respected back then, and I even respected myself. I was wholeheartedly devoted to God, and if the truth be known, somewhere deep inside I was sometimes the slightest bit proud of my devotion. Then I'd repent...because I knew pride was wrong. I didn't want to be wrong. Not ever.
People looked up to me. And life looked good from up there. I felt good about who I was. That was before I was Had. Strangely, I no longer remember my old name. I just remember I liked it. I liked who I was. I wish I could go back. I wish I'd just wake up. But I fear I am wide awake. I have had a nightmare. And the nightmare was me. Had.
If I could really talk to you and you could really listen, I'd tell you I had no idea how this all happened. Honestly, I was just like you. I didn't plan to be Had. One day I hadn't, then the next day I had.
Oh, I know now where I went wrong. I have rewound the nightmare a thousand times, stopping it right at the point where I departed the trail of good sense. The way ahead didn't look wrong. It just looked different. Strange, he didn't look like the devil in the original scene. But every time I replayed it, he dropped another piece of his masquerade. When he finally took off his mask, he was laughing at me. Nothing seems funny anymore. I will never laugh again as long as he is laughing.
If only I could go back. I would see it this time! I would walk around the trap camouflaged by the brush, and I would not be Had. I would be Proud. Was that my old name? Proud? I can't even remember who I was anymore. I though I was Good. Not Proud. But I don't know anymore
Would you believe I never heard the trap shut? Too many voices were shouting in my head. I just knew I got stuck somewhere unfamiliar. And soon I didn't like the scenery anymore. I wanted to go home. my ankle didn't even hurt anymore. Not until the infection set in. Then I thought I would die.
I lay like a whimpering doe while the wolf howled in the darkness. I got scared. I pulled the brush over me and hid. Then I felt like I couldn't breathe. I had to get out of there or I was sure it would kill me. I didn't belong there. I refused to die there.
I pulled and pulled at the trap, but the foothold wouldn't budge. The blood gushed. I had no way out. I screamed for God. I told him where I was and the shape I was in. He came for me.
The infection is gone. He put something on it and cleaned it up instantly. As He inspected my shattered ankle, I kept waiting for Him to say, "You deserved this, you know. You've been Had." Because I did and I know and I have. He hasn't said it yet. I've never known Him from this side. My leg still hurts. God says it will heal with time. But I fear I will always walk with a limp.
You see, I wrestled with the devil and he gave me a new name. Had.
Poem by: Beth Moore
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